


For a given definition of Hawkeye

by ehonauta (banzai)



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel
Genre: Avengers merch, But these two are joined at the hip for life, F/M, Ficlet, Gen, Hawkeyes are basically five year olds, Ship is in the eye of the beholder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:34:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banzai/pseuds/ehonauta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is not awake enough for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a given definition of Hawkeye

**Author's Note:**

> (unbeta’d and uncalled for, as per usual)

*plink*

Clint goes to scrub away whatever it just hit him in the forehead and manages to catch his thumbnail in his eyelid.

“OW! God—“

*plink*

He shakes his head, trying to discourage whatever has already hit the side of his face from hitting his face.

“Coffee. I need coffee.” He shuffles blearily to the counter and manages to determine that a. the coffee pot is, if not clean, at least not revolting, and b. there are already grounds in the maker. Someone likes him, apparently. (It has to have been someone else, the thought bubbles up out of his sleep fog, because it had _never occurred to him before_ that you could prepare these things ahead of time. You think about coffee when it is time for coffee.)

*plink*

“Ok, what the—“

Clint cranes his head around to try to figure out what the hell is hitting him and

*pltt*

“AUGH Kate that went in my futzing  _ear_  what the hell?”

Hawkeye – the other one, you know,  _her_  – is sitting on the floor in a pile of—

“Katey-Kate, not that your smiling face surrounded by …. Jeez, like, $7000 of adorable stuffed Hawkeye bears isn’t sweet—“

“They’re not Hawkeye bears.” She fits another tiny arrow to a bear’s tiny bow. “I mean, they are, but only for a limited understanding of the word Hawkeye.”

“ _Hawkeye bears_ , Kate. Which you know Tony had made after that whole thing with Barnes and the seven hundred thousand Bucky Bears or whatever and therefore are  _not my fault_.”

*plink*

“KATE!”

She grins, utterly unrepentant. “In lieu of a correction to the name or a share of the licensing rights, I’m taking my satisfaction out this way. Turns out it’s pretty satisfying.”

“Can I at least get my coffee?”

“Nope.”

*plink*

“Kate, seriously, this is getting annoying.”

“Clint, seriously, you annoy me every day of your life.”

*plink*

“Alright, that’s  _it_.”

He lunges, and all of a sudden there is an explosion of teddy bears (with surprisingly pointy bits, for soft kids’ toys) and Clint has one hand around Kate’s left wrist while his other whaps her about the head with a discarded bear (its tiny quiver of arrows depleted, it had been summarily tossed to the side).

“QUIT IT!” she shrieks, before wriggling around and sticking surprisingly pointy fingers under his armpit and tickling mercilessly.

When he twitches away from her hand, he relaxes his grip slightly, and she twists away and grabs a handful of bears, sticking one down her top, one into the waistband of her shorts, and clutching one in front of her, aiming the tiny bow at him.

*plink*

He starts chucking bears at her, and she laughs and darts away, turning every few steps to hit him with another tiny plastic arrow. Their laughter gets louder and they both occasionally dart back to the giant pile of bears for more ammo.

A couple of lamps get knocked over, and a kitchen knife goes skittering off the back of the couch (how did that even get there, anyway?) but finally they cross the line when their battle, having morphed into some demented game of bear-assisted tag at some point, leads to Kate tripping over Clint’s outstretched foot and headbutting the dog.

Lucky yelps and looks accusingly at both of them.

“Aww, Kate. Now look what you did.”

“What  _I_ did? Seriously?”

“Fine. What we did. Hawkeye.”

“Damn right I am.”

“Can I have my coffee now?”

“…I guess. But you have to promise to talk to Tony about the bear situation.”

Clint sighs dramatically. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

_(Fin.)_


End file.
